Bay Rum

  • Baron Samedi

    A notorious voodoo priest, who eventually rose to become one of the funereal Guédés, alongside Baron Cimitère and Baron La Croix. He is a Guardian of the Crossroads: the pathways between our world and the realm of the spirits. As a Master of the Graveyard, he ensures that burial rites are performed with skill, and he helps ferry souls to the dark realm.

    In his honor, we have created this scent: our spin on traditional Bay Rum.

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  • Blue Ghost Blues

    I feel myself sinkin’ down
    I feel myself sinkin’ down
    My body is freezin’
    I feel something cold creepin’ around

    My windows is rattlin’
    My doorknob turnin’ round an’ round
    My windows is rattlin’
    My doorknob turnin’ round an’ round
    This haunted house blues is killin’ me
    I feel myself sinkin’ down

    I been fastin’ in this haunted house
    Six long months today
    I been fastin’ in this haunted house
    Six long months today
    The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord
    And I can’t get away

    They got shotguns and pistols
    Standin’ all round my door
    They got shotguns and pistols
    Standin’ all round my door
    They haunt me all night long
    So I can’t sleep no more

    The Blue Ghost haunts me all night
    The nightmare rides me all night long
    The Blue Ghost haunts me at night
    The nightmare rides me all night long
    They worry me so in this haunted house
    I wished I was dead and gone

    – Lonnie Johnson

    A ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.

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  • Half-Human, Half-Monkey Barbers Shaving a Goat

    Engraving by G. van der Gucht after J. Wootton

    Bay rum, hay, dried alfalfa, aftershave, and cork stalk.

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  • Isaac, The Living Skeleton

    To your side, you hear a man’s deep whisper, “Slowly I turned… inch by inch… step by step….” A scream interrupts him, and a roar of laughter pulses through the shadowed hall. Following the commotion, you move to the next stage. A bone-thin man moves across the stage, and sits upon an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A battered violin is propped against the chair’s side. The audience starts to dissipate, and you realize that you must have just missed his performance. Relaxing, he reclines lazily, and as the light falls on his face, you come to realize that he is truly skeletal: a thin membrane of skin covers most of his body, but in many places, bone is completely exposed. He winks at you, and chuckles at your obvious discomfiture. The sweet smoke from his cigar touches your senses, and you hear the soft clink of the ice as he swirls the bourbon in his tumbler.

    “Late for the show, are ya, friend? I’ll tell you a quick one, and then you’d best skedaddle. I have better things to do than sit here and be gawked at all night.” He takes a swig from his tumbler.

    “A man goes to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, ‘I think you’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion.’ The psychiatrist shrugs and says, ‘Alright, you’re ugly, too.’”

    His attention is diverted by a scantily clad woman in the audience beside you, and he leers at her. “Hello, nurse!” he growls, and leans towards her lecherously. “How’s about you come back to my dressing room, and I show you my stamp collection?”

    Bourbon, black tobacco tar, dry bone, bay rum aftershave, and sleazy cologne.

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  • Jazz Funeral

    Considered a great honor, this is one of the most distinguished aspects of New Orleans culture. Its roots lie in the customs of the Dahomeans and Yoruba people, and is a celebration of both the person’s life and the beauty and solemnity of their death. The procession is lead by the Grand Marshal, resplendent in his black tuxedo, white gloves and black hat in hand; almost a vision of the great Baron Samedi himself. The music begins with solemn, tolling dirges, moves into hymns of sorrow, loss and redemption. When the burial site is reached, a two-note preparatory riff is sounded, and the drummers start the second-line beat, heralding the switch in music to joyous, upbeat songs, dancing, and the unfurling of richly decorated umbrellas by the ‘second line’ friends, family, loved ones and stray celebrants. Strutting, bouncing, and festive dance accompanies the upbeat ragtime music that sends the departed soul onto its next journey.

    Didn’t he ramble
    … he rambled
    Rambled all around
    … in and out of town
    Didn’t he ramble
    … didn’t he ramble
    He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

    His feet was in the market place
    his head was in the street
    Lady pass him by, said
    look at the market meat
    He grabbed her pocket book
    and said I wish you well
    She pulled out a forty-five
    said I’m head of personnel.

    Didn’t he ramble
    … he rambled
    Rambled all around
    … in and out of town
    Didn’t he ramble
    … didn’t he ramble
    He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

    He slipped into the cat house
    made love to the stable
    Madam caught him cold
    said I’ll pay you when I be able
    Six months had passed
    and she stood all she could stand
    She said buddy when I’m through with you
    Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo’ hand.

    Didn’t he ramble
    … he rambled
    Rambled all around
    … in and out of town
    Didn’t he ramble
    … didn’t he ramble
    He rambled till the butcher cut him down.

    I said he rambled
    lord
    … ’till the butcher shot him down.

    Bittersweet bay rum, bourbon, and a host of funeral flowers with a touch of graveyard dirt, magnolia and Spanish Moss.

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  • Jolly Roger

    Sea spray with an undercurrent of leather, Bay Rum, and salty, dry woods.

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  • Knucklebones

    You hear a clatter on the ground behind you, and a small bleached bone smacks against your foot. Cloaked in shadows between the tents, three men crouch playing knucklebones. Distress clouds the face of one of the men, while another bursts into a wicked smile and the last one sighs in relief. Scooping up his winnings and shaking his head, the victor makes a soft ‘tsk’ noise as he reaches towards the loser’s chest, positioning his hand over the man’s heart. Pressing forward, his hand moves through cloth, flesh, muscle, and bone to extract the beating organ. Tossing the heart onto the ground, he says to you, “Mind handing me those bones, buddy? I’ve got a game to run here.”

    Black musk, bay rum, lime fougere, orange blossom water, gin, and tobacco.

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  • Mr. Nancy

    Before Fat Charlie’s father had come into the bar, the barman had been of the opinion that the whole karaoke evening was going to be an utter bust; but then the little old man had sashayed into the room, walked past the table of several blonde women with the fresh sunburns and smiles of tourists…He had tipped his hat to them, for he wore a hat, a spotless green fedora, and lemon-yellow gloves, and then he walked over to their table. They giggled….He was older than they were, much, much older; but he was charm itself, like something from a bygone age when fine manners and courtly gestures were worth something. The barman relaxed. With someone like this in the bar, it was going to be a good evening.

    Sugar cookies with bay rum, tobacco, and lime.

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  • Santo Domingo

    An exotic, sultry blend of tobacco leaf, bay rum and heady Caribbean blossoms.

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  • The Marquis De Carabas

    He wore a huge dandyish black coat that was not quite a frock coat nor exactly a trench coat, and high black boots, and, beneath his coat, raggedy clothes. His eyes burned white in an extremely dark face. And he grinned whie teeth, momentarily, as if at a private joke of his own, and bowed to Richard, and said, “De Carabas, at your service, and you are…?”

    A splash of bay rum, leather, dusty black wool, massoia bark, and opium residue.

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  • The Mysterious Rappings Polka

    As performed by Griffiths Quadrille Band in a Mysteriously Effective Manner and Dedicated to all Lovers of “the Mysterious”.

    It really was a thing. Rose musk with pink and black pepper, a splash of bay rum, tobacco absolute, and toffee.

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  • The Naturally Possible and Impossible

    This has occurred in my presence on four occasions in darkness. The test conditions under which they took place were quite satisfactory, so far as the judgment was concerned; but ocular demonstration of such a fact is so necessary to disturb our pre-formed opinions as to “the naturally possible and impossible,” that I will here only mention cases in which the deductions of reason were confirmed by the sense of sight.

    On one occasion I witnessed a chair, with a lady sitting on it, rise several inches from the ground. On another occasion, to avoid the suspicion of this being in some way performed by herself, the lady knelt on the chair in such a manner that its four feet were visible to us. It then rose about three inches, remained suspended for about ten seconds, and then slowly descended. At another time two children, on separate occasions, rose from the floor with their chairs, in full daylight, under (to me) most satisfactory conditions; for I was kneeling and keeping close watch upon the feet of the chair, and observing that no one might touch them.

    The most striking cases of levitation which I have witnessed have been with Mr. Home, on three separate occasions have I seen him raised completely from the floor of the room. Once sitting in an easy chair, once kneeling on his chair, and once standing up. On each occasion I had full opportunity of watching the occurrence as it was taking place.

    There are at least a hundred recorded instances of Mr. Home’s rising from the ground, in the presence of as many separate persons, and I have heard from the lips of the three witnesses to the most striking occurrence of this kind – the Earl of Dunraven, Lord Lindsay, and Captain C. Wynne – their own most minute accounts of what took place. To reject the recorded evidence on this subject is to reject all human testimony whatever; for no fact in sacred or profane history is supported by a stronger array of proofs

    The accumulated testimony establishing Mr. Homes levitations is overwhelming. It is greatly to be desired that some person, whose evidence would be accepted as conclusive by the scientific world – if indeed there lives a person whose testimony in favour of such phenomena would be taken – would seriously and patiently examine the alleged facts. Most of the eyewitnesses to these levitations are now living, and would, doubtless, be willing to give their evidence. But, in a few years, such direct evidence will be difficult, if not impossible, to be obtained.

    – Notes of an Enquiry into the Phenomena called Spiritual during the years 1870-1873, William Crookes

    Well-worn leather, bay rum, vetiver, cigar smoke, and amber oudh.

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  • Trevor Bruttenholm

    A classic men’s cologne mixed with the scent of old, yellowed books, a splash of bay rum, and summoning incense.

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